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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23700223">The Narrative's At Play</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LettersofSky/pseuds/LettersofSky'>LettersofSky</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Humor, Implications of Off-Screen Violence, Narrative Constructs and their Medling Nature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:41:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,178</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23700223</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LettersofSky/pseuds/LettersofSky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This piece was originally written for the Eclipse Fanzine.</p><p>When the Narrative has a particular goal set in mind it proves difficult for even omnipotent beings outside of space-time to shift things.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 01 - Itchy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The main piece I wrote for the Eclipse Fanzine!</p><p>I'm pretty sure this thing broke my hands.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>One Doctor Scratch, head of the Felt and direct facilitator of the wants and whims of Lord English, was a very omnipotent, very busy being existing outside the river of space and time. As such he did not have the patience or want to waste his endless amounts of time and energy on such a trivial, if absolutely necessary to complete his plans and purpose, task.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that, my dears, was why he had the collection of individuals known as The Felt, with their odd greenness and knack for temporal-based shenanigans. They were sure to be able to get what he needed to be done completed for him, it wasn’t as if the task was an overly difficult one. It should be easy for any of them to be able to do so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the ease of the task in mind, he decided it best to send the fastest of The Felt, Itchy, Number One of them to be able to complete it in a timely manner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Decision made, he summoned Itchy into his office and prepared for the speedster’s arrival.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An arrival, that took far too much time considering who he was waiting for. As usual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he didn’t know better, and of course Doctor Scratch knew better, he’d think the speedster was doing such on purpose and trying his patience. But of course, that couldn’t be the case because there’s no way Scratch would have allowed such behaviour to occur and at a rate that would lend towards frequency.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No way at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d disposed of others for less, there were only a few here that were to be exceptions from that and the entirety of The Felt knew who that special exception was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no need to tiptoe around such a widely known fact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened as if prompted by Scratch’s musings and the awaited Itchy entered, twitchy as he ever was and remembering himself enough to avoid direct eye-contact with Scratch’s head. Or perhaps he was just looking anywhere but at his head. The reason hardly mattered all that truly did matter, in the end, was the result.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah there you are!” Scratch welcomed him in, ushering him over to the open space of floor in front of his desk. No chair. A chair would be inviting him to sit like they were on some equal playing field, and there was nothing further from reality. “Finally decided to make your appearance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was phrased like a statement but that didn’t stop Itchy from saying something under his breath, words quick and slurring together in a way that made them unhearable to all. Except Scratch of course. No one in the mansion could even dream to hide something from him. They were all aware of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what was that?” Scratch questioned, tilting his head just so to read as a question, cold and dull and having a noticeable effect on the speedster as he stiffened before him, drawing himself up and shaking his head in a spark, jerking motion, denying that anything had been said in his rushed, running together words. “Of course you didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch may have been letting him off of the proverbial hook tonight, but only because he had something for him to do before he was ready to make an example of him. Once the task was complete the narrative would be completely different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, I have something for you to do for me. It’s something that even your simple mind should be able to process, so I expect positive results sooner rather than later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Itchy listens, attitude curbed by fear as it should be until Scratch has fully briefed him on the task he was to complete.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Itchy’s a… being of mediocre intelligence. Surely he’ll be able to figure out his own details.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go along now,” he dismissed the Speedster, ushering him from his office with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I don’t want to see you again until you’ve finished what I’ve asked of you. Understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Itchy was gone much quicker than he appeared, leaving Scratch to his office to await what was sure to be a swift return and good news.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 02 - Doze</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It turned out, as so few things do for Scratch, that sending Itchy to complete the very important, very vital task was not the best idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow the Speedster had managed to take something he should have very well been able to complete in literally no time at all and fail in a way that not only reflected poorly upon him and his ability to complete simple tasks, but also on Scratch for trusting him to be able to do so in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But best-laid plans did have a tendency to go up in flames despite what was wished by those following them and perhaps Itchy simply, forgot, in his rush to account for certain things and factors that could take his guaranteed success and throw it away like so many used coffee grounds. Completely independent of anything Scratch could have done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was why Scratch had more than one underling to do things for him. More than one egg to put his trust in when the time came to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where one failed another was sure to succeed. If only to save themselves from sharing the consequences of failures with the first to fail the task.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Motivation came in many forms, who was Scratch to belittle any kind of it in particular? Especially when it made those holding it so much easier to mold into what he wanted of them?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doze, Number Two of the Felt, was so, so easy to mold with the threat of what Itchy had earned for himself hanging over his own head as well. Doze knew exactly how to act when Scratch invited him into his office, even though he’s a bit slow on getting there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter, Scratch is a very patient individual. When time and space meant nothing, why would he be anything else?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doze gets to where he’s supposed to be soon enough, standing in front of Scratch’s desk, shoulders slumped and movements slow as he waited for Scratch to address him first. Deferring to a superior and more dangerous creature.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which make no mistake Scratch was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doze was there for a purpose, one he would fulfill. Else Scratch would dispose of him like so much filth in this city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One failure was more than enough, thank you very much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I doubt I have to go through the trouble of explaining something you should already know?” Scratch questioned, forearms resting on his desk and hands folded together, resting the curvature of his head upon them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doze starts to respond but there’s no time to wait for him to put sounds into words. Scratch was patient, yes, but Doze’s abilities are a test to even the most endless abyss of peace and serenity and Scratch does not have all night to be entertaining him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not when there’s work to be done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes well as I’m sure you already know there’s a task to be completed. Our dear Itchy was somehow </span>
  <em>
    <span>unable</span>
  </em>
  <span> to complete it and has since been </span>
  <em>
    <span>reprimanded</span>
  </em>
  <span> for his failure. And now, my dear Doze,” Scratch unfolded his hands from each other to lay them flat upon his desk, pushing himself to his feet in an easy, fluid motion. “It has come to you to finish it for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ‘or else’ is a silent acknowledgment between them both, as it should be. No need to state the obvious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doze had started to perspire somewhere during Scratch’s address, sweat beading just under the brim of his hat before starting to slide down his face in a torturously slow drag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch lets him stand in relative silence for a moment, relative because Doze is still trying to piece together his response from earlier, the poor thing. But Scratch hardly cares to wait and strides around his desk to guide the slowest of his subordinates away from his desk and back to the door of his office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust you’ll have it completed in no time at all.” No time to Scratch that was, to whom time meant very little too. “Ta ta now~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door closes as Doze finishes his first response, enclosing Scratch within the green of his office as he turned back to his desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surely there was nothing to worry about now. Surely the task would come to completion as it should have under Itchy’s care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch need only wait for the results to fall into his lap.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 03 - Trace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>On second thought perhaps it was not the best idea to send someone who was unable to react quickly to what was going on around him. Perhaps, indeed, that was not the kind of individual the task looming over Scratch needed in order to be accomplished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But no matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doze was now a failure alongside Itchy and when he next appeared, however long that took, Scratch would ensure he received the consequences for his failings in kind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, there was nothing else for it. After all, it’d be rude to punish one failure and not another wouldn’t it? Indeed it would be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Doctor Scratch was many things but rude could not be counted amongst them, that was for sure. He’d ensure that any who even implied otherwise were politely corrected upon the matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Back to the task at hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The task, still lacking in its want of being complete and fulfilled after the first two failures of Itchy’s and Doze’s attempts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was time to summon the next subordinate that would be tackling the task Scratch had for them. A simple task made difficult twice over for no reason at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The price of working with those not blessed with the knowledge and foresight that Scratch himself was, more the pity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two down but there’s another ready and willing, in a matter of speaking, to take their places.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hopefully Trace would be able to see where Itchy and Doze had both failed in kind and avoid repeating them to complete the task at hand? Scratch could only hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The longer it took to get the task completed and tucked away the closer they drew to being unable to complete it at all, an outcome that should have been both impossible in theoretics and execution but was slowly starting to prove otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which Scratch was less than pleased to even entertain the notion of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Trace and his trails would handle it before such a notion could continue to inch towards reality, else Scratch may have to change the consequences the tiniest amount going forward. It simply wouldn’t be fair to </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> properly punish those that earned more of his ire than those that had failed previously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would consider it, hold the threat of it over Trace’s head so that he was aware of what was at stake should he return empty-handed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trace doesn’t arrive any quicker or slower than Scratch expects him, as good a start as any he could have made tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah!” So wonderful to see you Number Three!” He didn’t even bother to fully divert his attention away from the piece of paper before him, pen flying across the page in letters unseen by eyes not his own. “Do feel free to come in, I’ve been waiting for your arrival.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continues to choose not to look towards Number Three, letting Trace sweat a moment though he hadn’t yet done anything to earn his ire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no harm in allowing him to sweat amongst the trails of prior failures within the office though, none at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He soon finished the sentence he’d been working on, perhaps taking a bit longer than he needed just because he could, and sets his pen down perfectly parallel to the paper he’d been working on, folding his hands together and focusing his attention on the individual in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust you’re aware enough of what’s going to be asked of you that I needn’t waste so much of our mutual time explaining the task ahead in great detail?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trace hesitates a moment but nods, proving himself one of Scratch’s more reliable once more. Whether he would remain as such or not would be seen as he either succeeded or failed in the task ahead of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” he nods and picks up his pen again, clear in his dismissal. “I look forward to seeing the results of your success when you do return.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surely this would be the success he’d been waiting for.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. 04 - Clover</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It seemed that luck had not been on his side, it certainly hadn’t been on Trace’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d seen where Itchy and Doze had both failed, to be sure. But his own failures had been hidden from his sight and thus he’d blundered into them without thought or pause with all the grace of an elephant, returning to Scratch and the manor empty-handed and heavy-hearted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch had been quick to deal with him, truly his patience was starting to grow thin as time hummed with the start of splintering, of cracking apart and tearing at the seams. The task not yet completed when it should have been and those of The Felt suffering all the more for it alongside Scartch’s ever-growing ire with them and their failings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now it was time to stop focusing on the mistakes of the past and turn his attention forwards while he still could, time to pull the strings of fate to get him the success he wanted from the task he was giving out to his most loyal of underlings and subordinates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bit of luck was all he needed to get things back on track enough to keep it all together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he had someone practically dripping with luck, on hand and eager to do anything and everything Scratch asked of him. It was time to apply the little fellow to the task at hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clover was always so happy to be of help to him, to The Felt as a whole, to apply his abilities to their benefit, whenever Fate allowed it, the fickle temptress. Why shouldn’t he take advantage of such willingness?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’d be particularly rude of him to not allow Clover the chance to help, to succeed where those before him had failed and advance his station within the inner workings of The Felt. Mainly who was Scratch’s favorite at that point in time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smallest of The Felt was eager to receive his summons and appeared in Scratch’s office with all the energy he showed in everything he did, practically vibrating where he stood in front of the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust I don’t need to inquire as to your readiness to work?” Scratch asked, ignoring the rolling eyes he got from Clover in response. “You’ll be the fourth I’ve sent out to attempt to complete this task, as I’m sure you’re aware. Even more that my patience is growing thin as time starts to slip away from us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A stronger eye roll, this one accompanied by a dismissive wave of Clover’s hand as he assures Scratch that the task will be completed before he knows it and there would be nothing to worry or be concerned over any longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A good thing to hear after the three failed attempts immediately preceding Clover’s presence in his office, even better once luck played out as Scratch wished it to in order to give him the result he wanted out of sending his subordinates out with their orders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guarantee in hand he allows Clover the honour of staying a moment, of chatting about the task he’s being sent out on and the general mood within The Felt’s manor; not that Scratch truly cared too much about that but he enjoyed being in possession of the information all the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he sent Clover on his way, on small feet of luck and good-will, certain in the knowledge that he would no longer need to worry overly much about the task and its state of being incomplete. It would come to fruition soon enough, in a rousing, amazing success, nothing to worry about at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch settled back into his chair, allowing himself to cast his attention to another matter needing his focus in order to foster the events he needed to occur on the timeline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picked up his pen, twirling it between his fingers a moment before setting it to paper, unseen letters detailing the next step in his plans for when it inevitably came time to put it into motion. Spinning, turning, winding pieces falling into place exactly where they should, ensuring the correct timeline comes to the outcome it was always meant to achieve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time wouldn’t be stalled for anyone, it would continue regardless of the wishes of mere mortals, he would ensure as such.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. 05 - Fin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Clover didn’t return immediately upon failing the task. Not the smartest of moves from the usually intelligent little creature but he was able to stave off Scratch’s increased ire the smallest amount by shifting something else on the playing field, something he needed complete for a time a bit further down the stream of continuation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a welcome occurrence, to be sure, that task also needed to occur and be carried out one way or another. But with a failure already hanging over his head and then his fleeing from his inevitable punishment, Scratch wasn’t in the mood to show kindness or respite to Clover. Not at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Failing was one thing, failing to return afterward was another altogether.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His punishment, while not as severe as it could have been considering the shift he put into place on the temporal playing field, was dealt out swiftly and without hesitation. Scratch wasn’t going to let anyone think him kind or merciful when wronged or disappointed in any sense of the word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the manor knew what had occurred, what had happened to Clover and why his punishment was so much worse than the three that immediately preceded him, on top of being the fourth to fall in the task set out for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch didn’t care much for their idle gossip and the tension running through the ranks, focusing only on who was next on the way to hopefully getting his task finished and completed for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Number Four’s failure came the chance for Number Five to try his mettle at getting the task finished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Number Five was doing his best to appear nonchalant and dismissive of the fact that four others had stood in the very same spot as he now did and had gone on only to fail, slumped where he stood with his arms crossed in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least he was showing some form of etiquette and keeping his gaze in a respectful location, a small boon to the situation at hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now,” Scratch started, not caring to waste his time drawing the interaction out when Fin was already acting his usual self, more than likely aware of something Scratch himself was not yet able to see. The bonus of being able to see trails of the upcoming futures to be sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though Fin was unable to know exactly when each trail was set in the timeline; what came first, what came after, how far forward in the timeline they lay. To see things without the context of them in time, was there ever a thing that could be considered worse?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch didn’t believe so, but that hardly mattered at the moment. There was business to get back to after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As the fifth to be sent out I’m expecting a better result from you,” Fin didn’t outwardly react like Clover had, a clear difference between Number Five’s perceived ease and Clover’s actual confidence in being in front of him. “Look to the future and find exactly what you’ll do to succeed and perhaps I shall find something suitable as a reward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That catches Fin’s attention immediately. He hasn’t offered anything like a reward previously, but perhaps a bit of extra incentive is all he needs to get the ball rolling the way he wants it to be instead of being stuck at a stand-still, or worse moving in reverse. Fin was certainly interested, standing a bit straighter as he focused on Scratch closely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind will be decided upon your successful return,” he went on to say, drawing Fin further into doing the job well for him. “I shall be eagerly awaiting your return.” A clear dismissal, an indicator for Fin to leave the office and get started on completing the job for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the forward sight in his possession, Fin should be able to finish the task for him with little fuss or nonsense.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. 06 - Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When he had said Fin would be able to look to the events of the future to find his success, he had not meant that he should have completely thrown out his regard for the events of the past. That was how one forgot mistakes that had already occurred and repeated them up until the end of time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was how he got Number Five failing in exactly the same way as Number Three had before him. Which was a coincidence that Scratch was less than pleased to see come to pass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now he was zero-to-five and more than exasperated with his subordinates and their inability to complete even the most simple of tasks by his measure. Truly, it wasn’t that difficult to complete, was it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was he underestimating the struggle of the task? Or overestimating their abilities to get it done how he wants them to? Perhaps he should greatly lower his expectations of them all so that someone else can just happen to be able to get what he wants to be done, done for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only one way to find out he supposed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Fin and his failings shuffled away from the forefront of his mind. Scratch turned his attention to who would be the next to be sent out in an attempt to finish the task for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Up to Number Six already. Mister Die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Die who appeared in his office with his chickens in tow, not something Scratch had been expecting, nor wanting, from the occurrence. Oh what a turn this timeline had taken, how things had progressed in ways he had never thought they could, never imagined they would. Oh, what a world he had come to exist within.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you need to bring them to the meeting?” He asked, looking between Die and the chicken he held in his arms, petting the feathers on it’s back in constant, repetitive motions. Die nods a stiff, jerky motion, muttering a stiff confirmation and Scratch decided it best to continue instead of lingering on the eccentric behaviour. “I see. If you believe you require their assistance to complete the task at hand then by all means, include them in your efforts going forward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Die nods and clutches his chicken closer to his chest, holding it as securely as one would a comfort blanket, one of his chickens clucking around at his heels, pecking at the carpet in search of some kind of bug or lint to consume. He seemed to be more than pleased with the assistance he was being allowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As long as he was going to get the job done, Scratch cared very little about how Die went about the task Scratch had assigned to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Die with his ability to travel to different timelines would hopefully be able to find one where the job was easier for him to complete, as long as he returned with it finished he could bring as many of his companions with him as he wished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch couldn’t really bring himself to care overly much as time marched ever onwards and his subordinates started to prove their inabilities to do the tasks he was setting out for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Failures would be failures no matter how they came about, with or without assistance from nonsentient creatures. Only the timelines Die transported himself to would prove the deciding factors upon his measure of success.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch would be awaiting the results as he always did.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. 07 - Crowbar</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Perhaps the ability to teleport to different timelines was not the most helpful when it manifested in the ways that Die’s did. Being able to teleport from one timeline to another at the moment of death for whoever’s pin was pulled was not exactly the most intelligent or survival-orientated of plans. Certainly not one that had been thought through very well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fortunately, for Die at least, he had not perished due to his ability and had been able to escape unharmed though in possession of one less chicken than when he’d left the mansion. But that wasn’t really important in the grand scheme of things, not to Scratch at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hardly cared as to the amount of feathered, egg-laying companions that Die returned to the manor with, if Die truly missed it then he was perfectly within his own rights and abilities to acquire another. Scratch wouldn’t monitor him, as long as the creatures behaved themselves and stayed out of where they were not supposed to be then they could continue to exist as they wished to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hadn’t helped Die to succeed in the task Scratch wanted of him, so why would he give them any mind at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking of success and the complete and utter lack of it around the manor, Scratch was growing more than a little tired of no one being able to finish the task he’d set for them. Six he’d sent out already where the first should have been more than capable of seeing it to its completion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, the next on his list was his most reliable and trustworthy of underlings one he could put his trust into wholly and with the assurance that he’d get results out of him. Moreso than the previous time he’d thought as much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowbar was a good worker, someone Scratch could trust to get work done in a good amount of time and stay in control of the rest of the members of The Felt, keep them in something like organized unity and good behaviour instead of descending into chaos and in-fighting like they so often threatened to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Number Seven was standing stiffly in front of him, straight-back and stiff with his crowbar held in front of him, mouth pressed into a thin, stiff line as he met Scratch’s attention as he firmly as he was able to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A commendable effort, one Scratch recognized and applauded Crowbar for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been some time since our last meeting, hasn’t it?” They both knew the question was little more than a formality, a polite predecessor for the main reasoning behind Scratch summoning him here. “We simply do have to make it a more frequent occurrence going forward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crobar nods, agrees in his stiff and respectful way, more than aware of the truth to his own and Scratch’s existence in a way that only one other in The Felt was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you agree! We will have to arrange something,” no such thing would occur unless it was absolutely necessary but it was nice to pretend and keep Crowbar on his toes. “Onto the reason behind my calling you here, my little task has yet to have much in the way of progress. I do hope that you’ll be able to figure something out to change that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowbar stiffened ever so slightly at the topic, hands clenching on the piece of metal he was holding. And then he nodded, firm and confident in himself as Scratch had come to expect of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Splendid!” Scratch stood from his desk, for no reason other than to see Number Severn stiffened ever so slightly at the motion, and clasped his hands before him. “Off you go then! I’ll be expecting you back soon enough.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. 08 - Sn0wman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Time to scratch yet another name off of the list as Crowbar returned with his proverbial tail between his legs, crowbar clenched tightly in his hands as if fearing Scratch would bother to take such a silly little thing from him as punishment for his failings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nonsense. Scratch had far better ways to punish Crowbar and his inability to succeed in what was supposed to be such a simple task, such a mundane, everyday, uncomplicated thing he was asking of them all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now if only someone were to be able to do it all would be right with the timeline.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was starting to run out of individuals to send out in the hopes of accomplishing it for him. Already he’d gone through the solids of The Felt and into the stripes barring…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Best… not to consider sending </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> out to attempt to complete the task at hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t that he thought her unable to, no of course not she was just as capable as the rest of The Felt around her, it was just that with the unforeseen difficulties the rest of The Felt had faced when he’d sent them out it might prove too dangerous to risk her safety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sn0wman did hold the very safety and continuation of their universe in her hands after all. The ebb and flow of time and space in their small cluster of stars, planets, galaxies, and realms, was directly tied to her well-being, her very life force.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To risk her was to risk them all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Scratch had put far too much effort into orchestrating the past, present, and future of this universe to risk something like that occurring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. Best to avoid sending her out when things were already proving more difficult than he initially thought they were going to be. Best to just not even make her aware of the situation at hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want her doing something stupid and deciding she could complete the task anyway despite the danger it may have posed to the universe at large. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. no need at all.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. 09 - Stitch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Well yes, Scratch was sure that should it had been safe enough to send Sn0wman out to attempt to complete the task that she would have failed like those before her had. Yes, it was only a matter of fact that such an outcome would have been the result had things aligned in any universe he could have sent her out to attempt the task without the threat of the universe ending should anything unexpected occur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, nothing to worry about, there were a number of others waiting in the wings anyway, ready and willing to do whatever Scratch wanted of them if only it would make their lives easier for themselves within the manor and the felt as a whole. Favour carried a long way, after all, there was no understating that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And why shouldn’t Scratch extend the opportunity to the rest of The Felt to prove themselves more competent than those that were numbered before them? The first set had had their chances and had squandered them away, it was only fair to allow the others the same attempt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The others had failed him over and over again, eight times in a row now, why not see if one of those remaining would be able to succeed for him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first of the next set had been summoned to his office, standing prim and proper before him in a timely and respectable manner, a needle in one hand, a piece of fabric in the other as Stitch worked to fix another new patch onto it. Another of the many Scratch had seen him working on during previous interactions and meetings, either a completely new one or one that had been patched and mended so much it had lost much of its original colour and content.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Such an odd habit, though Scratch supposed if it kept Number Nine prepared to help and mend the rest of The Felt in the inevitable instances of harm being done to them then who was Scratch to judge really?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For if he judged then that implied that he cared and that couldn’t be farther from the truth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As long as he was able to do the task Scratch wanted of him, on top of keeping the doubles in perfect upkeep, then Stitch could do whatever he wanted with his time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do hope you’re aware of what’s expected of you?” Stitch nodded, gaze remaining focused on the patchwork in his hands. “Good, if you do need to know anything, though I highly doubt you should as something like this hardly needs much explaining, you can talk to those that have attempted and failed before you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stitch nods again still focused downwards instead of at Scratch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And before you leave,” Stitch finally looked up to him, his one good eye focusing on him while the other was unable to. “Be sure to be on the lookout for any… fraying whilst you’re out, won’t you? If there’s something causing this task to be unable to be completed then I want it taken care of, understood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stitch stares at him for a long moment before nodding again, his needle always at the ready if it should be found that there’s some temporal anomaly at play.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only time would tell.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. 10 - Sawbuck</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If he didn’t know better Scratch would say that someone was purposefully finding ways to make the small, insignificant task he was requesting be completed, impossible to complete. Some outside, external force that was shifting things just so out of alignment to make what was supposed to be a simple and easy task too difficult for his subordinates to accomplish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that was preposterous! There was no outside force dictating that all of his subordinates so far had to fail so that he had to continue down the line of them to get through all of them. Of course not, not at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regardless, Stitch had returned empty of success and overwrought with failings, proving that he was not the one that Scratch should have sent out to complete the task he wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, at the very least he now knew there wasn’t anything temporal at play keeping the task from being completed. It was simply the incompetence of his subordinates!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But really, nine members had already failed and he was quickly running out of options for who he could send out in the hopes of getting the task done for him. There were only so many members of The Felt, only fifteen members in total and he was over half-way through the list now, not too many left to go now that he stepped back and considered the situation fully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hmm. Perhaps he should consider giving the task he was sending them out on some more serious thought going forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Stitch came Sawbuck, nervous and fidgeting and seemingly far too large to fit the same space those before him had occupied only days prior to his own form. At least he was being properly respectful towards Scratch, paying him the proper mind and attention he deserved for deciding to give him the opportunity to succeed where so many others had failed before him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d fidgeted through Scratch’s explanation of the job, nodding in the appropriate places. And then voiced a million and one questions as to what he might face while out there and other such nonsense topics concerning the task ahead of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which was more than most of the others had, but also more to irritate Scratch with. Such a nervous creature, completely unnecessary due to the simple fact that there was so little that could cause harm to Sawbuck without the express intent to, and even then a tremendous amount of force would need to be used to do any actual damage to the large Felt member.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it was to occur though then Sawbuck and whoever was attempting to harm him would be transported to a different timeline, nothing too outwardly difficult to deal with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who knew, perhaps a different time was exactly what was needed to get the task finished as Scratch requested it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could only wait and see.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. 11 - Matchsticks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He could only wait for Sawbuck to return to the manor with his hands clenched tight, fists shaking with his failings as he prepared himself to face Scratch’s ire with the task hanging over them all, looming in its still yet incomplete nature.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What a wonderful sight to behold, how perfect that he’d had to wait to see such a thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least he hadn’t been left waiting due to Sawbuck traveling either ahead or backward through time with no way to properly discern which direction he’d gone or how far in either direction. A small kindness to say the least. At least Scratch wasn’t as irritated by his return as he could have been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was, of course, still very annoyed and irritated that the job he’d expected to be complete by this point was still resting firmly on the other side of the court but he could have been more so if other factors had come into play.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he was going about this in the worst way he possibly could though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he needed to change up his tactics completely if he wished to get this task finished in such a way that left him without the need to go through the last remainders of his subordinates and give them their own equal opportunity to fail at the task at hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he needed someone that could just go in and get out quickly should the situation turn in such a way that required a quick and timely escape from danger</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps that would give him the results he’d been wanting all this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matchsticks was in possession of abilities such as that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the assistance of a blaze of flame, Matchstick was able to travel from any singular point to another, which would hopefully give him the edge needed to get the task Scratch had over and completed without the fuss and struggle those before him had faced. Not to mention being a formidable opponent in his own rights on top of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes. A new outlook on that task and a new way of tackling it was exactly what Scratch needed, exactly what The Felt needed and Matchsticks was definitely going to be the one to finally bring him the success he was after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The large Felt member was imposing in size and stature but well mannered, attention trained and focused on Scratch with his extinguisher clasped with firm confidence in his hands, ready to use the device to cut off his escape way should he need to protect his own skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch was sure that he’d be able to get it done for him, that Marchsticks would be able to maneuver himself around the timeline until he reached the success Scratch was hoping for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his ability to escape at a moment’s ignition and close off his avenue of departure before any adversaries or unwanted presences were able to follow him, Scratch was sure this would be the shift in the timeline he’d been waiting on.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. 12 - Eggs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Or perhaps that would only be yet another avenue for failure waiting to happen. Perhaps changing tactics wouldn’t change the results at all and Scratch would be, once again, left to deal with yet another aftermath of failure on his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matchsticks returned to the manor, hat singed at the brim and extinguisher empty of foam. Joining the ranks of those before him as a failure and unable to complete the easy task Scratch had set out for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch didn’t know what part of the task was turning out so difficult for all those he was sending out in the hopes of getting it done but it must be something quite extreme to be ruining things so spectacularly for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One would think that something so simple would be difficult to ruin in so many, numerous ways but it seemed that each of his subordinates had found a way to do so, and quite efficiently at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that left him with one less underling to give the task of completing this job for him to, only four more were waiting in the wings now that Number Eleven had proven himself amongst those incapable of completing something so simple, so trivial.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though, considering who he was turning to next perhaps he had even more than he had first assumed. When one had the ability to become multiple individuals in a short amount of time, then did it even matter if he started out as a singular individual?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eggs had himself an intriguing little ability that he called his own, one that could easily be utilized when numbers were low and dwindling to become nothing less of an impressive, imposing force ready to act towards a singular goal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surely that would be more than enough to get the task completed?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch certainly hoped so, else things could take a drastic turn regarding his mood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until then it was time to call Eggs into his office. It was time for Number Twelve to take his attempt at proving himself half-way competent.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. 13 - Biscuits</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Or perhaps two someones were needed because one of them refused to go out on what had started as a very easy, very bare-bones basic task without his partner in crime to accompany him outside of the manor’s boundaries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Biscuits was a simple-minded creature, gullible in his belief that his oven had any time-related ability whatsoever other than the ability to open its door when it was set to do so. Useless without being used in tandem with Eggs’ egg-timer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What a joy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, as long as they actually managed to be able to get the task done they could work together if they wished to do so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or they could fall together and face double the consequences as they were the ones that wanted to work together in the first place. If they wished to combine their efforts and potential hopeful success then they would do the same to their potential failures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch cared little for specifics in the long run; at least the specific of unimportant matters. It hardly mattered to him how the task was completed as long as it was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And between the two of them and the numerous, numerous temporal doppelgangers they could create, there should have been a great margin for success.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. 14 - Quarters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>No. No of course things couldn’t be that easy, not for him, not for this particular task at hand. Why should he have expected anything different? Hadn’t the others already proven that already?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another failure added to the list, this one twofold and twice as embarrassing and twice as disastrous in results for Eggs and Biscuits who had left together and returned without the task completed and no one to blame but themselves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had wished to work together. They had failed together. They could handle being punished together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only fair. And why oh why shouldn’t he strive to be fair?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they’d made their decision and acted towards it? He’d let them, told them what would come of the worst possible result and now it was their time to experience it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, he had been left with the dilemma that there were only two remaining Felt members left; only two that hadn’t been sent out in an attempt to complete the task he had ever so naively believed the rest of them should have been able to complete. Only two others to prove themselves more competent than the rest of them when it came to following simple instructions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quarters was the next in line to be sent out into the world at large. Quarters and his interesting little coin tricks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being able to summon anyone of The Felt to his location was certainly something that could be used to his advantage should he end up needing assistance for whatever occurrences ended up coming to pass. Whatever difficulty he could face in this task that had once been simple and now was apparently anything but.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with his own coin attached to Clover, the little luckster would be able to sway things in Quarters’ favour this time since he’d failed to do so for himself previously. Perhaps this would be what Scratch needed to get a successful result for the task he was sending his underlings out on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this point though, there was little doubt in his mind that something would occur; something, anything, anything at all and completely ruin the task Scratch was sending him out on. He was sure it would occur, it was only a matter of what and when.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But who knew?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been wrong about how straightforward and easy the task he was sending them out on was, perhaps he’d be proven wrong about this as well?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could wait and see how Quarters decided to handle whatever situation he got himself into.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. 15 - Cans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Perhaps, just perhaps, next time he won’t have to specify that Quarters should take his and Clover’s coin with him if he wanted to benefit from the luckster’s abilities, or even that he should inform Clover if he needed to get away from whatever he got himself into and back to the smallest of The Felt’s side. Instead, Quarters had decided to do neither of those things and returned a failure in all the ways that well and truly mattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it seemed that Scratch simply couldn’t account for the presence of common sense in his subordinates now, could he? That would be far too sensible a thing to expect of any of them to contain in any sense of the word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Quarters returned to the manor that made fourteen times he’d given the task to his underlings in an attempt to get it completed in a timely manner. Fourteen failures and only one left to try to finish what he’d wanted of those that had come before, else he earn his place alongside the other in their consequences.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cans wasn’t one for higher thought. Not one to plan or think things through, no not at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Simple-minded in only the purest of ways, putting nothing but the next move to thought and even then that could be debated. What was instinct and what was well thought out, rational reasoning could often seem like the same thing during the heat of the moment and from those on the outside looking in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When one could simply brute force a difficult obstacle to a point somewhere in the future there was little need to worry or think things through. Why bother changing tactics when the tried and true method worked oh so well for him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the last one remaining it was Cans’ turn to prove that his method was superior to the others and that there was indeed one amongst The Felt that Scratch could entrust the completion of this task to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was time to see if brute force would bring him the success he was after.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. A Conclusion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Another failure. Another underling returned to the manor with nothing to show for their efforts outside of it within the city their existence functioned within.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch should have expected as such, as he should have expected each failure after the unexpectedness of Itchy’s empty return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One would have hoped that the fifteenth attempt would have been enough to get the task completed, to somehow break the cycle they had all somehow fallen into and achieve something that could be classed as a success but no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things could never be so simple, so easy. And now Scratch needed to face the inevitable, unavoidable truth that this timeline was doomed to fall to pieces, crumble in on itself as the strings rotted away all because his subordinates couldn’t--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found a packet of those grounds you’ve been after.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scratch halted his internal monologue and turned away from his window, towards his desk where Sn0wman had made a seat for herself, a sealed bag of his most favoured coffee grounds placed nearby like a sign from the Lord himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wonderful!” He clapped his hands, applauding her like one would a child that had completed a particularly amusing trick. “I’m so glad to see that someone was able to complete my little task for me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a moment of pause, a beat of stillness as he ignores the fact that he’d passed over her initially due to the belief that she’d only fail as the others had before her and would continue to do so after her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for your assistance Sn0wman. I shall be sure to contact you should I require your abilities again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A lie that Sn0wman herself was well aware of but it was of little meaning to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Scratch wanted to send the others out on meaningless grocery run before his particular brand had been restocked that was entirely on him. She had only, far only interesting matters to focus on.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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